Ten Thousand Moments
by Top Hats and Other Items
Summary: In the end, it didn't matter who lived, because they were two sides of the same coin. Drabbles on the Sole Survivor, not in any particular order, nor restricted to Nate or Nora exclusively. Prompts welcome! Rating may change accordingly.
1. 1: Beginnings

_1: Beginnings._

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

They were supposed to go to the Veteran's Hall, willingly or not. Have drinks, listen to speeches—make small talk. Nate was to don his military uniform and medals, his clothes meticulously ironed and his black shoes shined by Cogsworth. Nora was to wear her bright red dress and the heels to match. They were a punctual pair; they would have made it to Concord on time. They would have entered the room together, striding in with an elegance not many could match. After the pleasantries, Nora would be at a table near to the stage, where Nate would be seated. Eventually, he would have stood up, the faded scars on his face almost invisible under the bright lights, and speak of the war. She would sit there, impossibly sober with a glass of wine in her hand, and take it all in. Afterwards, he would take his place next to her, and they would sit silently together. Others were slated to speak that night, but they wouldn't hear any of it. If he noticed, he would hold her hand to stop her from fiddling with the wedding ring on her finger.

(" _I, Nora, take you, Nate, to be my lawfully wedded husband..."_ )

They would talk about Shaun.

Over dinner, they would be asked about how their son was doing, and Nate would beam proudly as Nora tells them how Shaun inexplicably got out of his crib without breaking his skull. Cogsworth would be blamed, and Nate would give Nora an exaggeratedly affronted look. All of them would laugh, and tell tales of their own children, some in college, some in pre-school, some still kicking in the womb. They would eat bland, but acceptable, food and drink the wine, whiskey, or rum that was available. Nate would regale and be regaled by tales about friends, lost or not. Nora would laugh at jokes made by the other wives, all of them fondly recalling the moment their husbands came back to them.

(" _...to have and to hold, from this day forward..."_ )

Both would excuse themselves at 8:00, Nate with a sheepish gesture at his wife, who would take the hint and say something about the dangers of robots with babies before taking off.

Then, they would go home.

(" _...for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness, and in heath..."_ )

They were supposed to go home.

The war was supposed to end; the world, transformed into a better place, where people didn't know starvation, or perished from lack of water. Nora would have flourishing career in law, while Nate would become a handyman, working in the Red Rocket near Sanctuary. They were supposed to see Shaun grow up into a fine young man, and possibly have grandchildren. He would bring his parents pride and joy, in all that he did. Once their son had a stable career and a place to live in, they would travel the world. They would visit all the places Nate was stationed in, and visit any old friends. They would come home to Cogsworth, who would greet them enthusiastically with coffee, and ask him to develop any pictures they managed to take. The walls of Shaun's old room would be filled with the memories.

( _"...till death do us part."_ )

They were supposed to grow old together.

(" _...I do."_ )

Nate should have laughed and despaired at his thinning hair, as Nora dramatically announced her untimely demise due to her more-prominent wrinkles. The passing of the years would not have dulled their minds, though they would often remark on the creaking of their limbs. Cogsworth, the ever-trusted butler, would have taken over all the duties in the house by this point. Shaun would come in every once in a while, and the house would ring with joy.

(" _...I now pronounce you, husband and wife!"_ )

They were supposed to live together.

They were supposed to _be_ together; forever teasing, laughing, and loving each other.

They were supposed to die together.

(" _I love you_.")

It was not to be.

(" _I love you, too._ ")

* * *

In the end, it didn't really matter who lived, because they were two sides of the same coin.

One would die, the other would watch, and the boy would be taken.

No matter who lived in the end, the result would be the same: whoever left the Vault went to find their son.

In their lives, it would always be this way.

* * *

[finished on 3 June 2016, 11:12 PM]

Un-beta'ed, as of this moment, so any mistakes are mine. If anyone would be kind enough to do so, that would be fabulous. Any comments and suggestions on the writing are welcome, and if anyone would have any prompts, I'll be happy to consider them :D Thank you!


	2. 2: Just A Dream

2: Just A Dream

There were times when he would dream of her.

He would look up on a perfect ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin lazily. He could hear Cogsworth prepare coffee, the whir and hustle of the Mr. Handy comforting to him. Walking around the pristine room (how wondrous it was, to have a clean sofa), he would sip his drink and watch the news. The outside would be a blur of vibrant color and sounds he never paid attention to. All of this was white noise, really—he couldn't hear anything, and if he did, it would quickly be forgotten.

Eventually, a hand would caress his shoulder.

He would close his eyes, not daring to believe it. Hesitatingly, he would cover her hand with his, expecting it to pass through.

( _cold cold cold no please no_ _please_ _she didn't deserve this—_ )

Her hand was always warm.

Then, he would open his eyes, and turn.

(— _blood blood blood why is there somuchblood shedidn'thavetodie—)_

She would meet him with a soft smile, her mischievous eyes twinkling.

(— _I'msorryI'm sorryI'msorry I love you—_ )

They would talk for awhile. Of everything and nothing at all. He never remembered what she told him; only what he said to her. Sometimes, he would say something funny, and she would laugh, her teeth flashing as she did so. Other times, Nate would bring up Shaun, and she will gaze at him, sadly. They would never go into their son's room; only around the house.

He didn't mind—she was with him, and that was all that mattered.

He never let go of her hand, but was careful not to grasp it too tightly.

Before long, she would give him a look, and he knew it was time. It didn't make it any easier.

The first few times he had this dream, he would fight the compulsion to wake up. He would scream and rage with tears in his eyes as the world he knew began to disappear. Soon, the hand he held became cold, and then he was _back no please why is she so cold she was never meant to be this cold why why whysaveherplease—_

He would be shaken awake by Preston, or Piper, or even MacCready.

Now, he would look at Nora. Her eyes would be glistening, but she would hold his gaze. She would allow his desperate attempt to memorize her features all over again; to convey without words how much he loves her; even though it broke her heart. There were times when she would cry, and it was all he could do not to wrap his arms around her.

(He did that, once. When Nate woke up, he was disoriented. Nick was with him that time, and he never, _ever_ wanted to see his partner—his best friend— that raw and broken again.)

The world would slowly melt away, but she was always the last to leave. She would always wait for him, he knew.

(" _I'll get Shaun back." "I know."_ )

He would kiss her hand, and she would let out a choked laugh, the clear sound breaking his heart all over again.

( _"I love you. I love you so much." "I love you too.")_

Then, and only then, would he let her go.

* * *

(finished on 11 June 2016, 10:53 PM)


	3. 3: Stars

She hated the cold.

She didn't before.

Before, there were usually ample amounts of snow around Boston. Never too high or low, but always perfect for a decent snowball fight, or just enough to make a sizable igloo. It would be warm, she remembered. The sky would be a light grey as silver flakes danced down to Earth. The still, but comforting air would wrap around her like a blanket. Not too hot, nor too cold. When she breathed it in, it would be crisp enough to keep her awake. Always, during first snowfall, she would open her mouth and wait for a snowflake to land on her tongue. At night, she and Nate would gaze at the stars, suddenly brighter in the clear, chilled sky.

There was balance, before: between hot and cold; the peaceful days and blissful nights; in the brilliant stars that shone in the firmament, and those same constellations reflected in her husband's eyes.

Now, it was just cold. A dead and harsh cold that seeped into her bones and made her feel the two centuries she spent in the cryo-pods. It didn't really snow anymore, it seemed; a thin layer of ice welcomed her one morning during her first winter in the Commonwealth, and disappeared by early afternoon. Days and nights were spent trying to stay alive. And the stars…

She was afraid to look at the stars.

* * *

"Blue?"

"Mmmm?"

"Hey Blue, you gotta wake up."

Nora buried her head more in her pillow. "Mrrph."

"Bluuuuuuuuue."

"Go away."

"Okay. You asked for it."

Nora heard a crunching noise before jumping up, swearing, her back suddenly wet and freezing.

"Augh! What the hell Piper—!"

Nora swatted at the reporter as she tried to get rid of the substance on her back. Regrettably, Piper dodged her flailing with ease. The reporter was laughing, and tossed Nora a spare shirt, which she caught with a glare. "Come on, Blue," Piper said, grinning and totally unrepentant. "You gotta see this."

Then, she fled outside.

With a sigh, Nora changed and followed her, scowling somewhat.

She opened the door, and was greeted by a winter wonderland.

"What...?" Nora stared, open-mouthed, at the sight before her. The entirety of Oberland Station was covered in a good foot of snow. Settlers were busy trying to sweep and pile it away and around the station, and the mounds were a good two feet high. The trees had a blue-silver sheen in the light, almost crystal-like in appearance. The sky was a clear and startling blue. As Nora took in her suddenly white surroundings, a few people were keeping watch and brushing the turrets off, while others were checking the food storage and melting the snow for more water.

"I know, right?" Piper said. The grinning reporter was at the bottom of the stairs. "It's been awhile since it's been this thick. Doesn't happen very often, buuuuut we get lucky sometimes."

"Piper, this is _amazing_." Nora picked up the closest patch of white powder, unable to believe the light chill that covered her hands. She smiled widely as she made her way down, dragging her hand and gathering the snow on the railing. "I... it's been awhile," she trailed off, her smile disappearing as she rested both her hands on the pile she made.

"Since what?" Piper asked.

Nora flashed a grin that was all teeth and wrath. "Since I had a snowball fight."

Piper shrieked as Nora hurled the perfect snowball at the fleeing reporter's face, knocking her press cap off. "Hey!" Piper yelped as she ran for the trees. "Don't mess with the hat!"

"You're the one who poked the bear," Nora drawled, quickly packing in another projectile. "And messed with her sleeping time." She threw another ball at Piper, who managed to duck behind the wide trunk of the tree in time. "Totally fair." She crouched down to make another.

Piper was quickly reminded why the last group of Gunners actually decided to flee from Nora's relentless shots. She ran to another tree; the Vault Dweller was circling around her, trying for a better trajectory. Still, she's been in her share of firefights, and though this one was a bit more hopeless, Piper wasn't one to give up. She scooped up some snow from the ground and packed it in her palm.

"For the press!"

* * *

At the end of the day, both of them were soaking wet and in danger of hypothermia.

Shivering next to the generous fire pit made by mostly amused settlers, Nora and Piper were swaddled in as many blankets as they could find. At this point, they already changed their clothes, their usual garments practically frozen in the chilled night air. The ladies abandoned their chairs long ago, preferring to stay as close as possible to the crackling flames.

"W-W-What the hell, B-Blue," Piper said, her voice shaking. She huddled closer to the fire. "M-My hands are freezing off."

"A-All your fault," Nora began, her teeth chattering somewhat. "Y-You started it."

"I didn't th-think you'd throw the stuff at me!"

"That's the thing; you d-don't think," Nora deadpanned. She sneezed into the fire.

"I do think...!" Piper exclaimed. "I th-thought, 'hey, Blue might like to see snow,' so I ch-charitably and graciously woke you up—"

"—by dumping it down my back. R-Really."

"Oh, c-come on, you are so _hard_ to get out of bed."

Nora snorted, seeing the truth in that statement. A sharp breeze picked up, and they both shivered. She glanced over at Piper, and stifled a laugh. If the reporter came any closer to the wonderfully enthusiastic embers, she'd literally be _on_ fire.

"Come here," Nora sighed, adjusting her sheets and raising an arm to invite Piper. "We'll warm up better together."

The reporter shifted closer to her. After cocooning themselves again, they sat in a comfortable silence for awhile. Soon, they weren't cold anymore.

Nora looked at the stars. They glittered more than she remembered, more akin to diamonds scattered on black velvet. She smiled without meaning to. Nate would've poked fun at that simile and she would've smacked him, laughing. She closed her eyes, remembering how it was. The smile turned into a sad, half-smile before she opened them again. She still faced the sky, but didn't see the shining bits of light that adorned it. She paid no attention to the cosmos; nor did she behold the constellations that were once reflected in her husbands eyes. No—when Nora gazed into the sky, she kept her eyes on dark that surrounded these fragments of time and space. The infinite black which hid everything and nothing at all. The backdrop of memory, which were more numerous and shone more brilliantly than the stars.

"...The last time I had a snowball fight, I was with Nate."

She felt, rather than saw, Piper's head swivel towards her, a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue. She held the moment for a beat before continuing.

"It was December. We were in a park—I forget which one—with a terrifyingly steep hill. He was bugging me about getting a Mr. Handy—Cogsworth—so we didn't have to worry too much about domestics when Shaun was born." Nora chuckled quietly. " I was firmly against it. 'We'll be fine,' I argued. 'We've survived without a robot for this long; why start now?'" She gazed at the fire, not seeing it. "He wouldn't have it, and said if he beat me in a snowball fight, we'd get one." Nora smiled, lost in the memory.

"...So, I guess he won, huh?" Piper ventured softly.

"Fair and square," Nora replied, still smiling. "Pegged me in the head a couple of times, damn him. But I got him to tumble over the hill, so it was alright."

They laughed, and another companionable silence descended upon them.

"...It's getting late," Nora said, standing up. She grinned slightly when Piper groaned, missing the body heat. "We have to head over to Hangman's Alley tomorrow; a couple of settlers told me another raider gang took up shop nearby."

The reporter sighed, aggrieved. "Didn't we leave a sign saying, 'Don't come back!,' or something? Because this is the _third time_ this month, and I know that at least _some of them_ can read."

Nora guffawed, helping her up. They made their way to their beds; thankfully, someone left a lantern on for them.

"Piper?"

"Mmm?"

"Thanks. For waking me up."

Piper gave an openhearted smile. "Anytime, Blue."

She plopped onto the mattress and cuddled more into her sheets. "Night, Blue."

"Good night, Piper."

Nora turned the lantern off, and slept.

* * *

After that, Nora found herself looking in the stars more often.

When she did, the cold didn't quite reach her bones the way it did before.

* * *

(Completed on 9:50 PM, 10 July 2016)


End file.
